The Secrets of Life and Death

by Rebecca Alexander

‘Stay.’ The woman held up a single finger and Jack’s arm weakened, the sword dropping to the floor. ‘You are young, powerful. Don’t you see what I can give you?’

  ‘You can die.’ Jack’s thoughts seemed strangely single-minded, with just a whisper of concern left to wonder if the others were dead.

  ‘You can live. Live as long as you wish.’

  ‘By feeding off people like a fucking vampire?’

  ‘By the use of careful transfusions. I don’t kill people. I only take an occasional revenant, who would die anyway.’

  ‘They call you a monster.’ She pushed forward a step, a second, before a gesture from the woman stuck her like a fly in amber.

  ‘Look at yourself, Jack. You are beautiful now, not that withered, cooling corpse you were. I can show you more. I can show you the whole world. No more circles, no more potions. Riches and freedom. Immortality.’

  ‘You killed all those girls.’

  The woman shrugged, her hands still weaving the spell that was binding Jack in its mesh. ‘Personal pleasure. I was experimenting.’

  Even as Jack’s limbs became heavier, she was aware of the glow building in the circle. She could hear Felix’s voice, shouting.

  ‘Jack, listen to me!’ He seemed very far away, but something made her turn her head. She could see him kneeling, holding Sadie, the inquisitor crawling on the ground in front of him.

  She looked back, feeling her own body sway a little with the movement of the countess’s now youthful hands – Sadie’s hands. She stared at the undulating fingers, while Felix’s words sank into her mind like wine into a napkin.

  ‘You aren’t like her … she was always a sadistic serial killer. You have a choice.’

  ‘I was dying, Felix.’ The words drifted out of her. She clenched her fingers on the sword, feeling the hilt cut into her palm. ‘I’ve been slowing down for years.’

  ‘We’ll work it out. Mac will help.’ His voice became roughened. ‘Sadie’s dying, Jack. We need to get out of here, get help. I can’t move them both by myself. I need you to help me.’

  She could feel the heat through her damp clothes. She glanced at the summoning circle, seeing the flame filling the cylinder. It reached blazing fingers along cracks in the circle, perhaps looking for a big enough one to get out.

  ‘Jack.’ The voice of the witch cut through her thoughts and gave her a moment of clarity. ‘Join me and leave the mortals.’

  ‘Let them go.’ She found the words mumbling through her slack lips. ‘I’ll come with you. I have nothing here to keep me, except coldness and death. Take me instead. But let them go. They are nothing to you.’

  Over her words, Jack could hear the wail of sirens.

  The countess waved one hand and Felix hoisted Sadie into his arms. McNamara staggered, and fell. Felix disappeared into the doorway, then returned for the inquisitor.

  ‘Jack. Come on.’ He had one hand stretched out to her.

  The witch was triumphant. ‘She is mine, now.’ The light from the flames was almost blinding, white hot, and Jack realised her clothes were steaming, and smoke was rising from the floor around the elemental. ‘The fire devas will burn away the evidence and we will have a new life.’

  ‘Run, Felix.’ Jack stared at his hand: broad, square-fingered, brown. She had known him only a few days, but she knew exactly how it would feel, if she reached over for it. ‘Run now.’

  She let every corner of her being infuse with the cruelty of what the witch had done to Sadie, the rage of losing her childhood, her anger at not being told about the power of blood. She could waver the sword to chest height but no more. As she focused, another feeling crept in, warming her frozen muscles. Love for Maggie and Charley, for the animals who had shared her life for so many years, for the man who would not be banished by the threat of the monster. Summoning everything she had, she pulled her arms up like loading a bowstring, and with one explosive hack, let the sword fly.

  It hit the fiery being with a boom, breaching the circle, and tendrils smashed through the confinement. The thing grew as Jack started running, and the heat and sound chased her as she leaped over the altar. The witch turned to face her own creation.

  Felix had taken cover in the lee of the entryway, supporting the inquisitor, sheltering from the searing heat. The witch’s chanting grew into a screech as she tried to control the elemental she had raised, but her shrill voice was lost in the roar of the fire. Jack stumbled into the anteroom, and Felix slammed the heavy door behind her. The fire elemental in the church withdrew the air along the floor so fiercely Jack could feel it racing around her feet, as if it would suck her under the door. A moment’s pause in the complete darkness, then the whoomph of an explosion deafened her. The whole room was lit in orange light from every crack around the door, and the heat sent them scuttling around the corner of the wall. Jack saw the inquisitor holding Sadie’s body, her eyes half open. Before she could go over to the girl, Felix reached long arms and crushed her against him.

  Chapter 59

  The first rapid-response officers rounded the corner into the open doorway of the porch. At the same time, the fireball exploded down the nave, carrying with it the splayed body of a woman as if she were dancing on tiptoe, fingers stretching for the arches of the roof. It plunged greedy fingers towards the two men as they stared, frozen momentarily in the act of turning away, as it burned away her floating hair in an instant, tentacles of flame exploring the hollows of her face. Clothing wrapped her nakedness for a second or two in coiling, oily smoke, then was incinerated. She sucked in one glowing breath as her eyes shrivelled into her skull, her skin blackened and crazed over her scarlet body. Her shriek mingled with the roar of the flame as it drew the oxygen back from the porch, the searing vacuum plucking at the men’s uniforms as they staggered back, dropping close to the still-cool flagstones. As they scuttled back like beetles, one saw her body turn and drop, falling in a wave of sparks that sent one pseudopod of heat towards him, scorching off his eyebrows and burning his face before he buried it under his jacket. The men ran, crawled and fell, holding their breath against the skin-searing heat, until they turned the corner onto the grass outside. More screeches, these mechanical, rose as something inside the church started to fall. The crash lit every window and for a moment, the churchyard glowed orange, before smoke obscured everything.

  Chapter 60

  Felix gave himself a few seconds of holding Jack, hiding his face against her hair, before he looked around. The door was on fire, the heat becoming unbearable. Mac was crouched over Sadie, silhouettes against the red flicker of flame. There was an entrance, probably to a sacristy, opposite the one to the nave. Another crash was followed by a finger of flame, reaching in around the solid door.

  ‘Bring Sadie!’ he shouted to McNamara, gasping in a lungful of smoke before he raced for the haven of the dark archway, dragging Jack by the arm.

  He had no idea whether McNamara had heard, but as he slid into the cool darkness, stumbling over things on the floor, he heard someone coughing behind him. Smoke had followed them into the sacristy, exploring the ceiling and obscuring the top of a window lit by a street light nearby. The door behind them slammed shut.

  Felix fumbled along the window wall, and his hand found the recess of the exit, the studded planks … on one side, a hinge … he trailed fingers to the other side, found the keyhole. He coughed, spat soot. He rattled the handle but it didn’t budge. Felix could hear McNamara beside him, his breathing laboured. Then, the light of a small torch illuminated the man’s face. Jack had fallen to her knees beside Sadie, and was crouched on the floor, coughing.

  ‘The child is dead.’ The man’s voice was as scratchy as his own. ‘We have to get out, the church is burning down. Let me see the lock.’

  Felix knelt beside the two women, and looked at Sadie, lying among what looked like builders’ tools and old chairs. Her face was paper-white in the thin glow of the torch, her eyes closed, her elfin features softening to grey as the light moved.
He lifted the girl’s shoulders up, her head heavy onto his arm. He thought, but couldn’t be sure, that she sighed.

  The light disappeared into the hollow of the inquisitor’s body as he bent over the lock. Scratching, grinding noises were followed by another explosion in the nave behind them, bringing a tornado of hot smoke into the room. When Felix could see again, a yellow flicker outlined the sacristy door.

  The lock mechanism clunked and ground, then a slap of cold air revived Felix. He lifted the girl, staggering towards the door, the teenager’s head knocking against his collarbone with each step.

  ‘Jack! Come on!’ He followed McNamara into the graveyard beyond.

  ‘Is she really dead?’ Jack’s voice sounded rough, and taking another gasp made her cough. He could hear her dragging her feet behind him on the gravel behind the church.

  Felix eased his burden onto the slight rise of a grave mound, below the shadow of the churchyard wall. The faint light of the torch illuminated the girl’s face again. Felix felt for a pulse, but wasn’t sure he could feel one, his own hands were shaking so much.

  McNamara tapped an object in his hand. ‘My phone’s dead. We need to get out of here before the police arrive and I need to call for backup.’

  ‘What for?’ Alarm sharpened Felix’s voice.

  ‘You saw. You saw what she has become.’ The man’s voice was low. ‘Jack is no better than the demon she destroyed.’

  Felix looked at Jack, slumped on the grass.

  ‘She did what she had to, to save our lives. She was prepared to die for us.’

  ‘It would have been better if she had. You don’t know the consequences of a revenant taking blood …’ But his voice sounded less certain.

  ‘Please.’ Felix swallowed more words. This strange hard man seemed driven more by duty than feeling, yet he had disobeyed orders. Emotional appeals might not work, but reason seemed to influence him. ‘Give her the benefit of the doubt. If she turns out like … that, then do your worst. With my blessing. But at least give her time to prove herself.’ He looked at Jack in the pale light available. She was huddled on the ground, head on the grass. ‘Is she out?’

  ‘She appears to be. If she wakes up possessed by blood craving, we may not be able to control her.’ Still he waited. Finally, he turned the silhouette of his head. ‘I thought the child was dead.’

  Felix couldn’t find a pulse on the collapsed girl’s neck. He fumbled at her wrist, wincing at the torn flesh there. One bump, maybe imagined, brushed his fingers. A long moment, then another tiny pulsation.

  ‘Not dead, no. We need Maggie’s knowledge. She’s the witch that created them. She knows more than I do about borrowed time.’

  The inquisitor bent his head, and over the crashing and crackling of the flames Felix could hear the screeching of wheels and sirens at the front of the church. Then Felix caught the murmur of prayer, the Latin words soft, pleading with an unseen authority. Felix held his breath. Finally the man lifted his head, his eyes glittering in the distant light.

  ‘I will help you. But, if at any moment, she turns—’

  ‘If she turns into what that woman was, I’ll kill her myself.’ Felix gathered Sadie into his arms and lifted her up, staggering a little onto the gravel path. ‘Come on, the fire brigade will be here any minute.’

  Chapter 61

  ‘In my own country, the German school of swordsmanship is the technique of our grandfathers. I was taught Italian styles, and holding a bastard weapon, a hand-and-a-half sword like a bladed crucifix, was foreign to me. I recalled what I could of Thomas Kelley when he chided me upon my earliest battles with my cousin John. Attack at two lengths, cut up against a blow, plant feet apart. Rather a bastard sword than no sword, I say.’

  Edward Kelley

  Date not recorded, believed to be mid-December 1585

  Csejte Castle

  János led the way across the dungeon into the cave, while Miklós handed me a sword. I am not completely ignorant of the art of swordsmanship – I was considered a nimble fighter in my youth – but I have never carried arms in earnest. I am certain Dee would have been even less useful, and they must have agreed as they burdened the old man with several of the leather bags.

  The hilt was rough in my hand, the blade too long and heavy for comfort, and I resolved to use it only in defence. I followed Miklós’s handful of grim-faced, hooded warriors ahead of Dee, and a group of Konrad’s guards, one already injured. This man spoke to another in German. Perhaps he thought I would not understand.

  ‘We go to our deaths,’ he said, his voice shaking.

  He was a young man, less than twenty, I thought.

  ‘To everlasting life, then,’ replied an older companion, clapping a fatherly hand upon the first’s shoulder. This inspired no confidence in me as I struggled through the cave under the weight of the massive sword. In a far corner, the alcove that seemed to be used for storage was already being cleared out, and bundles of rusting armour flung to the floor. Behind was a wooden panel, which, with the hammering of János’s sword hilt, yielded to reveal a small doorway, barely wide enough for a man to squeeze through.

  Miklós turned to address us in Latin.

  ‘We go stealthily. No rattles, no stamping. We have surprise to aid us. Lord János’s men are within the yard, to the left, they will smite only with the flat of the blade. Do not harm them. Nádasdy’s troops are far more dangerous; they wear the bearskins. We have fed them much ale and wine, so we may have a small advantage.’ He paused for a moment, looking at the dark shapes before him. ‘Do not let them get to their horses. Once they are mounted we can never defeat them. I have arranged a diversion. Remember: stay left, head for the postern gate and kill anyone in a bearskin.’

  Shudders spread through me and I was filled with a sense of cold. The first group slid through the dark entryway, lit by a stinking tallow candle. Dee was handed another to light our way. I saw his face then, not the gentle scholar I knew so well, but the face of a determined and strong man, rich with experience.

  ‘Onwards, Edward,’ he said in English, with the light of battle in his eyes. ‘Onwards, for God and St George!’ Then he smiled, and despite the uselessness of his words, I felt cheered.

  The floor of the tunnel was roughly stepped, and I staggered and tripped at first. It led into the back of a stable, the horses gone, the mire stinking. The main gates were open, and men shouted outside as they attempted to recapture the horses, I suppose, that they released before the ritual. Miklós beckoned to Konrad, visible because of his height, and they crept to the stable doors. Miklós waved us on, and we ran forward. I followed my escort, emboldened by Dee’s words, and raised my sword for protection.

  The battle was confusing, and fast. Men grunted and heaved, sword against sword, and pushed shoulders into their opponents. Many buckled easily under the strain, János’s troops, I presumed. For me, it was one blow after another. A buffet from a cudgel knocked me to my knees, a sword flashed in the light of a brazier towards my face. It was slashed away by Konrad’s blade, his cloak swinging back from a polished breastplate over his robes. As I staggered to my feet my hood fell into my eyes, and when I raised my left hand, the flat of a sword caught my wrist with a blow I feared had cracked it. I howled in pain, and much by instinct, managed to parry another blow from one of the bearskinned Magyars, now pouring into the yard. The next strike would have sliced me in two if one of Konrad’s men hadn’t cannoned into me, and taken a cut that hacked his arm almost from his body. He did not hesitate, but threw himself into his attacker, his dying energy knocking the Magyar to the ground. Konrad, my guardian, despatched him.

  I followed the inquisitor, hoping that Dee was behind me, as we slipped past the mêlée to a small gate hidden beside the guard tower. A roar of shouts seemed to be chasing us, yet when I turned to see my fellow fighters, they seemed to have detached themselves from the battle outside.

  János’s voice reached me, still filled with some wry laughter. ‘The peasants
have come to reclaim their daughters. We sent spies to tell them the countess will drain their blood.’

  I saw that we were down to Dee and I, Lord János, a hooded man of János’s, three of Konrad’s soldiers and the inquisitor himself. János looked out of the gate, watching the riot outside.

  ‘Come,’ he said, and slid out of the gate into the shadow of the wall. I followed, with Konrad’s sword-hand in the small of my back, urging me on.

  The scene was hellish, the peasants armed with tools and sticks, the Magyars with swords and pikes, the scene lit by long torches carried by the invaders. As I watched, a screaming woman, her anguished face contorted with hate, reached a soldier with a flail and whipped it cruelly about his head. His sword ran under the tool and pierced her in what, with horror, I realised was a pregnant belly. He fell to the pitchfork of another woman, and I saw a soldier stabbed by a man with long white hair. Another bearskin screamed as a torch was thrust into his face, setting his cloak and beard ablaze. The peasants outnumbered the soldiers, and at a snapped order, the troops fell back into the main gateway.

  I watched no more, dragged along with the group, away from the peasants. They would no doubt have killed us, had they seen us. János led us into a shallow moat filled with a foot of mud but at least no water, and we crept through the shadows, out of sight of the main gates. I staggered up the slope out of the ditch, finding support from Konrad’s strong hand.

  ‘Well done,’ he said, and I heard the smile in his voice.

  As we stepped through the trees, a crack of a twig to my right made me swing around, my mouth open to cry an alarm. A hand clamped upon my face and swung me off my feet. A dagger’s bite crept along my throat, but a murmur from János stilled the blade. A few dark shapes materialised out of the trees, the faintest hint of dawn tinting the sky. Horses, maybe a dozen, were tethered under the trees, and their warm breath surrounded me as I was shoved towards them.